


A Little Night Music

by queenhandmaidensenator



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Drunken Kissing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:18:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhandmaidensenator/pseuds/queenhandmaidensenator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Padme and Bail are just friends, but after a long day and a lot of alcohol, they become just a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Night Music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citizenjess (givehimonemore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/gifts), [patientalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/gifts), [MyBellaLove16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBellaLove16/gifts), [fanofthefass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanofthefass/gifts).



> Thank you so much to all my wonderful RP partners on Tumblr - Jessica, Fass, Mel, Sarah, Estora... you gals are so lovely. Thank you for encouraging me to write.

They’d been at it most of the day, a brunch and then a working lunch and then a cocktail party and they’re both pretty plastered by the time they tumble into Bail’s apartment late that evening. 

Padme shrieks with laughter as they fall over each other onto the sofa, holding the champagne bottle she’d liberated from the party aloft. Bail’s hand is on her waist, almost touching her belly, and they laugh into each others’ shoulders. 

It’s nice, this relaxed joy, even if it is just a chemical reaction brought on by far too much alcohol. There’s so little to laugh over these days, between the war and missing their respective Jedi protectors, and Breha’s miscarriages, so Padme welcomes her uncontrolled giggling and the glowing warmth running up and down her spine. 

"I wish I was a Jedi," she informs Bail as she picks herself up and unsteadily obtains a pair of champagne flutes from the bar while Bail pops the cork on the bottle - the noise makes her jump, which makes her laugh even harder. 

"Why?" Bail asks, pouring their drinks, holding her hands steady with one of his own as he pours. 

Padme considers this. “I don’t remember," she admits. She thinks it has something to do with not wanting to get up to retrieve things on wobbly legs, but she’s not sure. 

This sets off a new spate of giggling from them both. Padme leans against his shoulder, sipping from her glass, enjoying his strong warmth and his companionship. Bail is her best friend. Her BEST friend, she thinks. He GETS her. She tells him so, leaning forward seriously so their noses are almost touching. “I just want you to know how much I APPRECIATE you, Bail," she tells him. 

He puts a hand on her cheek. “You are a remarkable woman," he replies and she feels a flush rise on her cheeks that has nothing to do with how much she’s had to drink.

She blinks, his features sliding in and out of focus. Bail is a handsome man, she decides. Not in the same way her husband is, but still handsome. Rugged yet refined. She decides she likes that, and so does the rest of her body. A tingly blossom unfurls between her legs.

She drains her glass and flips herself so she is straddling his lap, looking him right in the face some more. She feels dizzy, and exhilarated and she can’t stop grinning at him. “I love you," she blurts out.

——-

"I love you!" Her eyes are glassy and she’s swaying back and forth; they’d matched one another drink for drink pretty much all day and with her smaller stature, it’s hitting her hard now, Bail thinks. Not that he’s at all sober, of course. He closes one eye to get her to swim back into focus. 

He loves her too, he thinks. Not romantically, although the thought has crossed his mind as a matter of course. But as a friend, his closest friend besides Obi-Wan, perhaps. And she IS a remarkable woman, with a firey passion that is missing more and more from his day to day life. “You’re beautiful," he says. She is.

She licks her lips and gives him a radiant smile. No wonder Anakin Skywalker is infatuated with her; she is stunning, even nearly undone as she is. “So are you," she replies, a bit nonsensically, slurred. She leans closer to him and he can smell the sweet champagne on her breath mingling with her light perfume. Suddenly, she has pressed her lips against his, her hands on either side of his face, pulling him closer. 

Drunk as he is, his body still responds, hardening against her as she writhes slightly on his lap. He knows somewhere in the back of his mind that this is wrong, that he is married and that she is… if not MARRIED, then at the very least INVOLVED… But he’s INVOLVED too, with Obi-Wan Kenobi. It’s complicated, he thinks, but kissing Padme in this moment is simple. 

She pulls away slightly, looking a little cross-eyed, and reaches behind her. He puts an arm around her waist to keep her from toppling off of him while she unzips her dress and pulls it down her shoulders, exposing her small but lovely breasts. “Like ‘em?" she asks, grabbing Bail’s hands and pressing them against her chest. He can feel the hardened nipples beneath his fingers and squeezes them experimentally. She gasps and grinds against him harder. 

He pulls her close again and their lips meet once more. Things start to blur together, and she’s undressing him, he thinks, and then she’s drinking out of the champagne bottle and tilting it against his lips as well, licking the spillage from his chest and neck. And then they kiss again, like there is nothing else in the galaxy.

——-

She wakes up on the kitchen counter, an empty champagne bottle serving as a pillow. Padme moans slightly and pushes herself upright, horrified to discover that she is naked from the waist up. She covers her breasts with her arm as Bail enters the kitchen, looking about as rough as she feels. “Did we…" she asks.

Bail shakes his head, and she feels weak with relief. Or possibly dehydration, or both. “I’m pretty sure we just kissed," he replies. 

"It doesn’t count," she says quickly. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it, because it doesn’t count." She swings her legs over the side of the counter and alights on the floor. “We’re just two very good friends who got very drunk."

Anything else would complicate things far too much, she thinks. She doesn’t want to think about her confusing feelings - she’s deeply in love with Anakin. She loves Bail but is not IN LOVE with him. But they kissed, and at the very least he has now seen her topless. 

"Right," he agrees, seeming to come to the same conclusion. “This is something between us." Just for us, she muses. 

"Thank you," she tells him, slipping her dress back on properly. “Do you have any juice?"

He hands her a pitcher from the cooling unit and she doesn’t even bother with a glass as she uses it to coat her parched mouth and throat. “But I still think you’re a remarkable woman," Bail says.

She turns to him, and smiles. “And you’re still a wonderful man."

They do not speak of it, and it doesn’t happen again, but when she’s alone Padme sometimes comes back to the lovely, fuzzy memory of Bail’s hands on her body and his lips against hers, and it helps and she feels a little less alone.


End file.
